


Five Times Boone Didn't Die and One Time He Did

by jesterlady



Category: Lost
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death Fix, Character Study, Gen, One Shot, One-Sided Relationship, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Boone managed to avoid death and the one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Boone Didn't Die and One Time He Did

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. Some lines are from the show.

1

It was a beautiful, sunny day; he was glowing from a successful match, happy in the knowledge of who he was and what he did. Which is usually when she showed up to mess with his head and make him feel about three inches tall. When his phone rang, he looked at the caller id and winced when he saw it was her. He didn't answer, and he wasn't exactly sure why. The last time they'd talked had been somewhat amicable. But that never lasted.

He'd tried taking care of her, tried letting her take care of herself, but every year seemed to send her further down a path of resentment and self-pity that he couldn't penetrate no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't until he'd started to realize how damaging her neediness was that he avoided her calls. Especially after the last time he'd flown to her rescue. 

She'd been in France, living with that huge asshole. He recalled her standing on the grass outside some national treasure that he didn't know the name of. She'd been beautiful, but deadly so, he'd realized after. The guy had been big, towering over him, and Boone had swallowed a couple of times before making his offer. The guy chiseled way more money out of him than anyone had before and it had been extremely hard hiding just how much money was gone from his mother. In the end, he'd helped her pack her bags, the kid whining in the background the whole time. Then she'd disappeared on him and, somehow, he knew that she'd run back to that jerk.

So this time, when she called again a day after he'd first ignored her calls, he answered cautiously. 

“What do you want?”

She spoke quietly, as if to hide what she wanted to say from anyone who might overhear. The connection was terrible anyway.

“Boone, listen, I-I'm in some trouble.”

“What's wrong?”

“Well, he's just so mad.”

“Has he hurt you?”

“No...it's just-”

“Leave, Shannon.”

“I need some help,” she insisted.

“Where are you?”

“Sydney.”

“Brilliant, because if he's really trying to hurt you by the time I get there I'm sure he'll just have cooled down. Go to the police, Shan.”

“They won't-”

“No, they will. If you file a report, they will. I'll send you a ticket if you need it, but there's nothing else I can do.”

He heard defeat in her voice and, maybe, just a tiny pinch of pride.

“You've wised up a bit, haven't you?”

“It took me long enough, but I'm done being your lapdog.”

Boone hung up and stretched luxuriously. He had a business to run.

2

He spent his time on the island making an ass of himself. About an hour after the crash he realized the ridiculousness of running around trying to get pens for some doctor he didn't know the name of to help a woman who was already saved. He wanted to run into the jungle and hide from the strangers that seemed to be judging him. Especially that doctor, Jack, who appeared to be everything Boone thought he could be. 

All he wanted was to help people, but he seemed to spend all his time arguing with Shannon and making a nuisance of himself. It was humiliating. But he could sort things and become involved and go on treks into the jungle. And he was a lifeguard, had been before his mom gave him the business to run. He could swim, so when he heard a cry for help, he knew exactly what to do. He'd lived in California all his life and he knew a thing or two about swimming in the ocean and its dangers. He was doing fine until he'd banged his head against some driftwood and gotten disoriented. The currents had carried him further than he'd planned and while he was getting his bearings Jack had come in and saved the day. Or ruined it, depending on the point of view.

It wasn't Jack's fault that everyone seemed to look to him for the answers; the man was a natural leader and a doctor and cared about people. But he was going stir crazy and Boone seemed to be the only one to see it. He could understand what everyone else couldn't. Joanna could have been saved. And he could see that just leaving the water in the tent wasn't going to help matters. People would start a panic soon and with Jack off wandering in the jungle somewhere, someone had to step up. He just wished he could think of a better way of doing it. But he couldn't and, in the end, Jack had to save him again.

That didn't stop him from wanting to help and he was the first to volunteer for Sayid's rescue attempts and when Jack was trapped in a cave in, nothing in the world would have stopped him from going to help, and it wasn't so that Jack would know what it felt like to be helped either. No, Boone just wanted to help. And so he did. He wasn't the strongest or the fastest, but getting beat up by Sawyer was worth being able to help Shannon. And having her wanting his help was even better.

So when the time came that another woman was in need, Boone wanted to help more than anything. He recklessly offered his services on the trek to find Claire. He was prepared to leave; he was prepared to risk everything. Shannon asked him what he was up to and he smirked at her; he was at least doing something. She drew him aside.

“Boone, I know you want to help, but please don't do this. I just...I just don't think it's a good idea.”

“I'm not on this island to be your personal water carrier/lackey, Shan,” he said, holstering his backpack on. “I'm going.”

“It's not about me, okay!” she said sharply and that more than anything made him stop. “I just have a bad feeling; I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Since when do you care?” he finally asked.

“You're my brother,” she said and he flinched at the word. “Of course I care. We've been through a lot but I still care.”

“Why can't you just let me go?” he asked.

“Don't stay for me,” she said. “Stay for yourself.” 

And she'd turned around and left. He stared after her and then heard Locke behind him.

“Time to go, Boone.”

“I'm not going,” he said flatly. “Shannon needs my help.”

Locke shrugged his shoulders. 

“Michael, looks like we got room for one more after all.”

Boone didn't know why he felt so relieved that he wasn't going with the enigmatic Locke, the panicked Jack, and the restless Kate.

3

Boone felt good knowing that he was doing something important. Back home he had responsibilities, back home he was someone. But here, he was needed for more than just shipping mix-ups, signing checks, and practicing his tennis swing. Here, he dug people out of cave-ins, attempted to rescue drowning people, and practiced his golf swing. It was a lot better life, even if he would far rather be off the island.

And he got to know the most interesting people, even while he was saddled with the one person who meant more to him than anything and he couldn't wait to not be around. She was partly the reason he was on this trek. He'd offered out of a desire to help, but he'd come because it was something she had scorned. If there was one thing that he was sure of it was that, somehow, he had to get out from under her shadow. She may have been the one who'd been unloved in their makeshift family, the Cinderella of the story whose power and money was cruelly taken by an evil step mother, but he was the one who was taken over by an evil spell. He was the one who no fairy godmother could restore and she was the one who was doing the evil enchanting.

So he offered to go find Charlie and Claire and Locke seemed glad for the help and Kate just wanted to find Jack and when they found Jack, he just wanted to go for hours. Boone could relate to that and despise it all at once, so he stayed close to Locke and let Jack and Kate work things out for themselves. The older man was fascinating anyway and he wanted to find out more about him. 

It was curious, this new learning, of tracking, of feeling like an outdoorsy person. He did feel strangely like an away team from _Star Trek_ on an alien planet. A tri-corder would have come in handy and Boone was ridiculously glad he wasn't wearing a red-shirt, even if he was using one to tear into strips. Locke may have laughed at the symbolism, but Boone had an eerie feeling that symbolism was all too important to the man and to this island.

They came to a crossroads where two paths diverged from the original. The one on the left, the one Jack wanted to take, had one of Charlie's markers on it. Locke and Kate tried to talk some sense into Jack, tried to remind him of the obvious cunning of Ethan, but the doctor/hero wouldn't listen. Boone stayed out of it, feeling a curious sense of waiting for his doom. The eventual decision was to split up after Kate's miraculous tracking skills were discovered. There wasn't even a discussion about who would go with who or on what path. Jack and Kate disappeared down the path on the left and he and Locke headed for the path on the right.

Sometimes Boone wondered what would have happened if Charlie's marker had been on the right path instead of the left one.

4

Boone had been through some scary things in his life. Barring anything up until the crash, he could still name quite a few things since being on the island. The plane crash itself had been pretty terrifying, as had the trek into the jungle/running from a polar bear. Nearly drowning had been fear worthy. That was nothing to cave ins and being beat up, kidnappings and murder, and getting lost in the jungle with a bald man who packed way too many knives for his summer vacation.

This experience beat all of them hands down. He was tied up by aforementioned bald man, he was alone in the jungle, he was disoriented from a blow on the head, and he could hear Shannon screaming from somewhere close by. Up till then, he'd hoped that maybe someone passing by would find him. The hatch wasn't that far away from the caves and they'd been on their way back when Locke's blow had come. Now with Shannon obviously in trouble, his hope of an easy rescue vanished.

He had, as Locke put it, the proper motivation. And he cursed the man for doing this. He thought his arm was going to break off and the strain was torturous as he reached for the knife. He was amazed that he managed it in the end, but there was no time for heavy thinking because he could hear the monster and Shannon was still out there. He ran through the jungle toward the sound of her voice and quickly untied her while she screamed at him.

They hid from the monster and he was terrified, but that's what life was like on the island, constant terror, and one got used to it. He grasped his knife firmly and wished he was dealing with a polar bear. Shannon, for once, was silent and kept a firm grip around his arm. Which was great thinking in his opinion, because how could he protect her when his arm was in a stranglehold? Sarcasm aside, his brain was on overload.

They walked quickly and quietly back to camp, peering around for any possible noise or monster signs. Shannon interrogated him thoroughly and he answered her eventually as he usually did. He was so tired of this with her and, yet, since they were stranded on an island, big as it was, there was no getting away from her. Even if he had tried by hanging out with a man who'd decided to hit him on the head and truss him up as monster food. That was showing her.

Then Shannon was gone and he didn't have to think to know that he needed to save her. No matter what she did or what she said, she would always be his sister first and he needed to look after her. He saw her mangled corpse and fell to his knees in horror. He cradled her broken form and cried. Cried for her, cried for himself, cried for everything wrong in their lives. Cried because he wasn't crying more. Cried because he was so relieved to have her gone.

And he wished he could kill John Locke. Why did the man delight in torture and mind games? Even if he thought he was helping, it was very wrong. Even if they didn't have to follow society's rules anymore, it was wrong. The man didn't understand common things like the right to human respect. And the man told him it was all a game and showed him Shannon alive and well with Sayid and Boone felt a very interesting mix of pleasure and disappointment. Life would be easier with her death, nothing but the straightforward edge of pain and grief. Now things were that much harder again.

But one thing was certain and that was that he was staying as far away from John Locke and his hatch as possible. There was nothing but pain and death there, he was sure of it now. Locke creeped him the hell out, even when he wished he could be more like him, even if the man could predict the weather and knew how to mix up hallucinogens from plants. He was death and Boone would deal with his problems in the normal way without trying to take destiny short cuts.

“Stay away from me, John,” he said firmly. “I don't care about you or your hatch. Leave me and Shannon alone. I'm done.”

Locke stared at him, nonplussed, and Boone walked away, feeling once more that strange relief. 

5

Maybe if everything in his life hadn't gone wrong he wouldn't be here at this moment. But maybe he would be anyway, because no matter what problems he had, he couldn't believe that his desire to help was wrong. And he wanted to help and if there was a chance that he could use this plane's radio to do so, then he would do it. Even if it cost him his life. Which it very well seemed like it would do. He was slammed into the front window as the plane plummeted downwards and he could hear Locke screaming his name from the outside until something hit his leg and then his world exploded into colors of pain.

There was nothing for awhile and then he could feel something; it was pain, it was better to go back to feeling nothing. His head felt funny, like it wasn't getting enough oxygen. He blearily opened his eyes and wished he hadn't. He was being carried recklessly through the jungle, and his head bumped against his carrier's shoulder with every step, eliciting more pain. It had to be Locke; there had been no one else within miles. Boone wondered slightly how John was able to walk again, wishing it had happened just a few minutes earlier, but then he slipped back into nothingness and was thankful for it.

He was jerked rudely awake again when he felt himself hit the ground, or airplane seats, that's what they were. They were in the caves and Jack was leaning over him, shining lights in his eyes and poking and prodding. It felt wonderful even if it hurt. He could dimly understand what was going on.

“What happened, John?”

“We found a plane. A crashed Beechcraft on a cliff. Boone climbed up into it and it fell.”

“That would explain his leg,” Jack said, making hasty movements that Boone couldn't see, but definitely felt.

“I had to carry him a couple of miles; he's lost a lot of blood.”

“Tell me exactly what happened, John.”

Jack and Locke moved a little ways away and Boone couldn't hear them anymore. He could feel Sun's cool presence behind him, tearing away the remnants of his shirt and giving him some water.

“Jack,” she called. 

There were more mutterings and he faded out. The next time he remembered anything, his chest felt tight, not gaping and open, raw. Jack and Sun were arguing and Boone didn't have to look to know that John was sitting right next to him. He heard snatches of what was going on.

“What about his leg?”

“I have to get some blood into him. I can't set it when it's been crushed like that or else when he does get the blood there's danger of a compartment complex. I need his blood type.”

“A neg,” Boone tried to say, but his mouth wasn't working right.

Jack came over and smiled and Boone somehow felt like he was going to be okay. 

“A negative,” he said again, this time clearly.

“Thank you,” Jack said and he and Sun went back to their arguing.

“I'm sorry,” Locke said. 

Boone tried to shake his head, but it hurt too much.

“Not-not your fault.”

“I shouldn't have asked you to go with me, to go up there.”

“You...got...me...Jack.” 

And it was true, the man who couldn't even walk a few hours ago had carried him for miles, and it renewed all of Boone's faith in the man. Sometimes he had wondered if something were to happen to him and his death somehow meant the safety of the hatch if John wouldn't just let him die. Now he knew differently. John had saved his life.

1

He wished he didn't feel so disoriented, so much in pain. He wished that somehow he knew what was going on, that he could feel some human assurance. John had carried him here, where was he? For that matter, where was the one person who truly mattered to him? Where was Shannon?

There was so much noise and commotion and, over it, blinding pain. There was Korean being chattered over him and he vaguely wondered if the two were having another fight, but then somehow he understood. Claire was having her baby, Claire needed Jack. Go, he tried to say, go. But he couldn't move, he couldn't talk. There was nothing but the pain.

Then he was feeling alert and he could tell he'd stopped bleeding, except for his leg, his leg was wrong, and then Sun put something strange in his mouth and his whole world became nothing but agony. It cast itself at him in wave upon wave and he wondered what on earth would be worth going through this much pain for. Nothing. Maybe he could do it, for her, but for nothing and no one else. He wished for death then.

But Jack, the hero, was on the case and Boone could feel the determination of the man, even through the pain.

“I'm going to fix you,” he promised and Boone knew that Jack always kept his promises. 

Boone knew Jack was a miracle worker and that gave him the hope he hadn't felt since the moment he felt the plane begin to fall. He desired life once again.

But there were too many things wrong - he could tell them his blood type, but there was too much pain and John had said not to tell. Where was John, was he hurting Shannon again? The hatch was opening and there wasn't anything good inside. Where was Shannon?

He felt himself being moved again, felt the bones in his body cry out in protest. His mouth was so dry even though Sun gave him water. He was falling into a darkness and it was so painful. He tried to open his eyes and see Jack again, Jack who would save him.

But Jack was preparing for mutilation and Boone could feel the end had come. It was time to stop the charade.

“Stop,” he said, “stop. Let me go. You don't have to keep your promise to me.” 

Jack blinked in surprise like he'd heard those words before and even though the man was obviously trying not to weep; Boone had never felt so much respect for him before. 

“I have to.”

“I don't want to live like that,” Boone struggled to say. “Too many...people, they need you...medicine.”

Boone wasn't much of a hero, not like Jack. He always seemed to fail when he wanted to succeed, especially in the one area he'd tried the hardest in. But, in the end, when the pain was at the worst, he hoped he could think about other people instead of himself. He felt deep appreciation for Jack and the rest of these survivors, no matter who or what they had been. This island had made him become a different person and he just wanted the one person he loved to know it.

“Tell Shannon...” he said. “Tell Shannon.”


End file.
